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Nick glances over and answers as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world, “Home.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
LYLA
Iblink. When I open my eyes, they’re still there, laid out in a perfectly symmetrical row on the marble counter that surrounds the sink.
The last time I took a pregnancy test, it was hunched in a tiny stall of the student center’s bathroom, which always smelled like burned coffee. I was too embarrassed to take it in the dorm bathroom, worried one of the other girls who lived on the floor or one of the women who cleaned might see it.
I was ashamed too.
I had a far from traditional upbringing. I wasn’t raised to believe sex outside of marriage was a sin or you needed to be married to have a child. But I knew the judgments of women with a baby but not a ring, and the part of me that felt like I was finally overcoming the shitty hand life dealt me was furious with myself for sabotaging it.
My parents weren’t married. I didn’t want to be like them. I wanted to give my kids a family. A home.
I don’t feel shame or embarrassment now. I feel…happy. This is what five months of unprotected sex weresupposedto result in, but it still feels surreal to be standing here, looking at the lines on five plastic sticks that are all positive.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Lyla!”
I quickly sweep the tests into the top drawer and turn on the faucet to wash my hands. “Yeah?” I call back.
“Your hair and makeup need to be done.”
“O-okay.” I assess my appearance in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes wide. Both can be attributed to wedding jitters, not pregnancy.
I walk over and open the door.
Katerina, the wedding planner, is waiting, assessing me critically. “You’re not running, are you?”
“No. I’m not running. But I do need to talk to Nick.”
Katerina studies me incredulously. “There is no way that—”
Vera claps her hands. Everyone in the spare bedroom that’s been transformed into my bridal suite jumps. “Ubiraysya!”
Katerina is the last to leave after pointedly looking at the silver watch on her elegant wrist and wincing. But a few seconds later, I’m standing alone.
I walk over to the window, fiddling with the tie of my robe as I look outside. What used to be snow is now lush grass, splashed with colorful flowers and bustling with activity.
I went to a handful of weddings in Philadelphia as a plus-one or for coworkers. I never expected the most glamorous, ostentatious wedding I’d attend would be my own. Even Andrei’s, which I thought was over the top when it took place a few months ago, pales in comparison. I know who I’m marrying, knew what I was getting into when I said yes, but it’s staggering to look at.
The door opens and shuts. I glance over at Nick, who strides in and looks around until he spots me. His steps quicken as he hurries over to the window, his expression pinched with concern.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, low and urgent.
I stare at him for a few seconds, soaking everything about this moment in. The sun streaming in through the window. The muffled commotion downstairs. The way Nick looks in his tux, deadly and handsome. And increasingly anxious.
“I’m pregnant.”
“You–you’re…”
It’s somewhat reassuring that Nick looks as stunned by this news as I felt while staring at the sticks.
“Yes.”
“Wow. I wasn’t—I mean, I just…wow.”
